Garantito IGP: Occitanian Chersogno to the last bite

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand.

At the last farm in Chersogno, the altimeter on my wrist says 1997 meters. There are another thousand to the peak.

Above me are fog, rocks, and a pale trail. Below, the tattered roofs of the town of Campiglione, where a "For Sale" sign hangs over the ancient houses that look like tenements of the sort whose facades have a single open balcony per floor, though made with local materials: stone and wood. Everything crumbling or almost. And beyond, Lilliputian incredibly distant white cows working their way up the steep flank of the mountain, grazing a huge yellow meadow that opens to the sky well above the tree line.

I look down with astonishment to the dirt road leading down into the valley, which becomes steadily greener at lower altitudes.

This isn't just any valley. It's the Valle di San Michele, a branch of the Val Maira, in the Alpe Cozie. Occitania. No pass at the end of the climb leading to France; rather a closed gorge and a strange feeling. Lots of tiny hamlets spread about, lots of summer homes, sometimes displaying a casual use of cement. The residents who by now number dozens -- fewer than a hundred. More than money, the place seems to lack souls. In the winter, at least. In the summer the Swiss and Germans come, looking for quiet walks, and things liven up.

But now it's October, and on Chersogno, in Campiglione, the Landro family is about to pack to head down to the valley for the winter. Today, they say, they're leading their animals downslope, and won't be back until spring. Sticking around is out of the question: bad weather, cold, snow, and most of all, nothing to do.

In short, when the summer finishes so do the stays of the cattle and the herdspeople who stay on the slopes. Because Chersogno isn't just the name of the mountain, but also of the cheese the Landro family makes up in the meadows. People say it's like a Castelmagno, only sometimes better. They're the only ones who make it, and because of this haven't bothered to register it.

In any case, when we get to their shop, following traisl closed by the forest rangers, the shop is closed too. Because they're getting the animals ready for the trop, and they've also finished all their cheese.

We descend the winding trail, rocks and srubs giving way to meadows and pines, regain the paved road, and reach San Michele di Prazzo: it makes one think to discover that here, in the 18th century, there were 2,000 people. The façade of the old town hall has a solemn image of King Vittorio Emanuele II, and facing it a church whose size provides proof of the importance of the town. Two hikers with boots and packs look at us: who is the intruder?

For the past ten years Enrica and Roberta Cesano have managed the Tano di Grich, an old-fashioned inn under the porticoes where people eat, sleep and buy food. And, miracle of miracles, they have a whole wheel of Chersogno. The last of the season, they say. 3 kilos (about 6 pounds), 100% cow's milk, 20 euros a kilo: It's ours!

The rind is grainy, but on cutting turns out to be thin, dry, and soft. The body of the cheese is white tending towards pale yellow, and grainy, tender, holding together but not compact, rather friable. A distinctly milky aroma is barely sharpened by aging, but is still penetratingly fresh. On the palate it's deft, surprisingly soft, and soon dissolves into a delicate flavor that combines milk with more intense saltiness, and flows into bitter notes that are especially good. With chewing its initial dryness quickly gves way to a temptingly creamy, beckoning consistency.

Indeed, we put a serious dent into it, washing it down with both a delightful Dolcetto di Dogliani Clavesana DOC 2011 and a more refined but just as enjoyable Barolo Cerretta 2007 from Giovanni Rosso. And the only thing that kept us from continuing was a jolt of common sense.

Better make it last, because there'll be no more Chersogno until June.


Azienda Agricola Landro,
Borgata Campiglione 1, Prazzo (CN)
Tel. 349 2953659



Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: And if I Make Sausage from Turnips?

 

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand.

Doing the impossible is like getting blood from a turnip, says an Italian proverb. But there are people who get salame from turnips.

At Livigno -- altitude 1800 meters, the coldest place in all of Italy, the Little Tibet that, before becoming the duty-free paradise it is now, was isolated by the snows for 6 months of the year, and the dead were buried when the ground thawed -- the people fall into the second group.

Practical people, used to fighting ice and poverty. And therefore to coming up with the unexpected to get ahead, in a valley so high not even buckwheat will grow.

Thus, larch pitch chews for the kids watching the herds on the slopes, and turnip salame. Or better, Lughena da pasola, as they call it.

I want to make clear that present day Livigno bears little resemblance to the Livigno of 50 years ago. Even the traditions have become uniformed, and now the menus feature Pizzoccheri and Polenta Taragna, once staples of other, richer valleys.

But if one leaves the restaurants and visits people's homes, one realizes that the old dishes are still there, just that the locals prefer to enjoy them far from the swarms of tourists, and as tradition dictates. For example on September 8, Santa Maria Nascente, the Patron Saint's day. It's then that the curious traveler can discover, in addition to the lughena, the mösa, the borsàt, and the potòl.

I for example discovered turnip salami, served with a glass of Valtellinese, when I paid a visit to the last smuggler, Rocco Sertorio, a spry eighty-year-old who is now a fixture at the local folk festivals.

But the person who (thanks to the help of Dario Bormolini) told me the history and secrets of this unique cold cut is his companion at these folk festivals, one of the few, if not the last, custodians of the food traditions of the valley: Maria Silvestri, known as Maria Domenica or more usually Ménia. She lives in the only baita in Livigno that has, in addition to the standard decorative flowers, medicinal herbs and flowers hung to dry, to make flavorings, oils and remedies. At a short distance a small herb patch with a simple wooden fence to protect it from the animals and the cold. Little excess and much heart.

My asking how to make the lughena da pasola makes her smile.

"You pick turnips, the usual kind," she said, "you tie them in bunches, and you let them dry in the hay barn until it's time to butcher the pig (fed with polvin, a mixture of hay, cornmeal and water), in March. Then you cook the turnips, let them cool, and work them into the lard from the pig, if possible with a little meat as well, figuring a ratio of two to one, grinding everything and adding a little garlic, until the mixture is dark yellow. You let it drain, mix well, and then add salt, pepper, cloves, and cinnamon or nutmeg. After which you put it into casings made from sheep intestines. 15 days later it's ready to eat."

According to others, whom Ménia doesn't confirm, some also add cabbage to the mix. In Livigno salami are traditionally thin, with a characteristic curvature, and weighing a few etti (quarter pounds), which are easier to age. In the town of Trepalle (500 meters higher, the highest parish in all of Europe) they use the same technique and ingredients, but make larger salamis.

How to consume this specialty?

"In pieces, breaking it apart with the hands and not a knife, and without peeling it," comes the response. "It can be eaten raw or cooked, made crunchy by the heat of a burner, or baked. But aged (it will age well for up to two years, without detriment to flavor or texture) it's also excellent. It's perfect for herders and hikers."

She goes upstairs for a 2-year old salami, which she breaks up and hands me a piece of: a fairly intense garlicky smell coupled with aged meat, and no hints of rancidity. Its texture is almost friable, with a paste that is dry and fairly coarse, crumbling under the teeth to reveal turnips followed by garlic, meat and lard. It's not too persistent but invites another bite, like a beer sausage but less firm and less flavorful. The sip of wine does the rest.

Between bites, the conversation then turns to the past and the way things used to be. When she gets to the avalanches of 1951 Maria's tone changes and her eyes become misty. And the lughena gains a new flavor that has nothing to do with this article.


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: The Val di Cembra and The Legionnaire Uncle

This time Stefano Tesi takes the Stand:

Lying on the bed of my room, looking though the shadows to the bit of mountain I could see from my window, A single thought ran through my head. And had since morning, when, as I waited for breakfast, I had examined the old pictures on the walls. And seen him: Uncle Luigi.

Photo by Giorgio Def

It was a shot from after the war, in black and white, a family picture with simple people, farmers. But Luigi (they had told me that was his name) stood out: Dark lively eyes, hair combed back, and a naïve smile that hid a worried expression. Quite worried, almost anguished. "He was a bit 'strange,'" remembers his niece. Once, to rebel against his grandmother's religious fervor, which dominated the house, he took brush and paint and wrote, on the back wall of the house, where there are now the four rooms of the agriturismo, "This is the Devil's House."

And then he left the valley with the (quite believable) excuse that there was no work to be had. The best he came up with was enrolment in the French Foreign Legion, which took him to the hells of Indochina and Algeria, where he looked death in the face. Experiences that, after his discharge, provided him with an inexhaustible well of tales with which to entertain nephews and nieces the few times he returned to visit his relatives. But not even retirement led him to return to the valley; he lived and died, alone as he always had been, in a town in southern France where the Government had homes for discharged soldiers. Who knows what secret, if any, Luigi kept in his breast?

You are doubtless wondering where this is going, and what question I had as I lay on my bed.

Photo by Ronnie Kiau

Two questions, actually. First, what the Val di Cembra was like seventy years ago. Second, if there is now a good reason to want to settle there.

And despite my wonderings, I couldn't come up with an answer. The Val di Cembra is a valley of Trentino, deep and rural. It's too low to be mountainous, too high to be hilly, with thick forests and steep slopes. A series of towns on the slopes, and a pair of porphyry quarries that are an insult to the eyes but saved the local economy. Vineyards everywhere, perched on the cliffsides, climbing the gullies, set into terraces unaccessible to tractors. Now they're almost all planted to Muller Thurgau (for the past 25 years Cembra has hosted a fair dedicated to the wine), which replaced the glorious Schiava 30 years ago. Vineyards dricen into the mountains, at altitudes up to 900 meters, rurality in the breezes.

Further up there's the Lago di Cembra. It freezes in winter, and when we were kids we'd go skating. Then, in the 70s, a Dutchman (who could perhaps answer my second question) appeared and told the startled villagers they could play bocce on the ice: Curling had come to Cembra.

What does this have to do with anything? Quite a bit. Another ten years go by, and a local girl marries a Swiss man. Not just any Swiss man, but a curling champion. To cut to the quick, a school opens, and then a team, and then another. And now there are six, including the national champions: Cembra, and its valley, are the capital of Italian Curling. 

But this may not be a good reason to come to the Val di Cembra. Nor even Muller Thurgau (though I have had some that were quite interesting and even unexpected, including Pilzer's grappas and distillates). Perhaps there isn't a good reason to come up here, and this could be the answer to my question.

However, I came to a different conclusion. I got up and opened the window. I enjoyed the vineyards draped over the slopes of the narrow valley. I went out under the pergola, and chatted with the owners of the house, Tiziana and Rosa, and enjoyed the homey pie, the cheeses and the cold cuts, while listening to the brook and sensing the Dolomites in the distance.  And told myself that I'd be back soon, precisely because, despite the apparent lack of a good reason to stay there were many.

Uncle Luigi did differently, but he was born there.

Who knows, he might have been good at curling.

Agriturismo Maso val Fraja
Via Val Fraja, Cembra (TN)
Tel. 0461 680096 o 683785
www.masovalfraia.it.

Non-attributed photos courtesy Cembra Mostra Vini Muller Thurgau.


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP - Ristorante Dopolavoro La Foce

This time Stefano Tasi takes the Stand

Light. Large windows. Old photos, almost all B&W. Brick bar. Benedetta Origo and her daughter Katia seem to have chosen a minimalist style for La Foce, the new restaurant of the historic Valdorcia estate. The one, so we know what we're talking about, with the famed winding cypress-lined road immortalized in all the guides to Tuscany, of the monumental formal gardens, and of the "Incontri in Terra di Siena" Festival (the program for 2012), a refined event that brings the world's most prestigious performers of chamber music to the Sienese hills. Thinking it over, however, the style is more warm and homey; it will inevitably bring back memories of the past to those who have lived in the country.

The restaurant is indeed located in a former rural dopolavoro, or social club where farmers met after work, a structure Benedetta's parents, Antonio and Iris Origo built for the tenant farmers within the framework of an illuminated design that, during the 20s and 30s, led the couple to transform a remote property into a model estate, surrounded by an extraordinary series of gardens designed by the English architect Cecil Pinsent, the man also behind the I Tatti, Florentine villa of Bernard Brenson. And where, during the war, refugees and the families of prisoners of war were welcomed, as Iris says in her narrative, "Guerra in Valdorcia"

Wars are no longer fought with cannons, but with economies, and though there are no longer bombs agriculture still suffers. And is saved, for now, by turism and the beautiful landscapes that attract visitors.

Hence the owner's decision to open a restaurant, which also provides an outlet for the estate's olive oil and the produce from the vegetable patch.

The challenge wasn't as easy as one might have thought.

Tuscany has hundreds of restaurants with traditional menus, including many specialized in "peasant food." Rhetoric lurks around the corner. And the quality of the ingredients is more of a starting point than the end-all for a top-notch restaurant whose prices reflect its position (the average cost is 50 Euros plus wines).

Another courageous decision, to put everything in the hands of a single chef like Paolo Anelli, a cook who has done many things in Rome /from Os Club to Gusto, from L'Antico Arco to the Michelin-starred Il Convivio di Troiani, with Chef Angelo Troiani), who here is called to measure himself with a clientele awaiting discovery whose expectations are not yet known.

Finally, our gastronomic experience was quite positive, thanks to a series of absolutely authentic flavorsand a manu that deftly weaves well known and loved dishes with some less orthodox ideas.

Very good, for example, the Crunchy Handkerchief of Pasta brick (how pasta brick is made) with fava beans, chicory, and leek cream, which is delicate and not overpowering. Good, though less original (at least for my tuscan palaye) is the chickpea zuppa with potatoes, crostini, and marjoram-laced olive oil. Excellent are the tagliolini with asparagus carbonara, and the close, a crumble with green apples, honey and vanilla sauce was also nice. Excellent, of course, the olive oil, cold cuts, and home-made bread.

I've saved the dish I liked the most and was perplexed the most by for last: crunchy meatballs from boiled beef, with green sauce and polenta crostini. Excellent, but that didn't convince me for philosophical reasons: meatballs of this sort, made from flavorful meats that are very lean and very dry, are the "logical" opposite of a dish based on leftovers such as meatballs, which generally employ trimmings and fat. And then there were fegatelli, absolutely traditional Tuscan fegatelli. Of which I can only say one thing: the best I've ever had (and this from someone who generally doesn't like liver). The one problem? They weren't on the menu.

The wine list has about a hundred wines, a mixture of renowned anmes and local treasures, with a clear Tuscan predominance in the reds, and as an aside craft beers from Cauilier.

Last thing: There's a path from the restaurant to the gardens of the villa, which can be visited upon request. If you're already there, it would be foolish not to see them.

Ristorante Dopolavoro La Foce
Strada della Vittoria 90, Località La Foce (SI)
Tel: 0578 754 025
http://www.dopolavorolafoce.it

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Sometimes "Without" is Better than "With"

This time Stefano takes the stand.

It's true, to fully understand certain problems or illnesses one must experience them personally. Or worse, through loved ones.

Without calling up really serious ills, let's look at something fairly widespread and that is increasing steadily in the developed world: Food allergies and intolerances. From Celiac Disease to many other lesser known but very common problems that powerfully impact the lives of those afflicted, imposing discomforts and denials that can be very difficult to live with.

It has happened in my family.

And because of this, of late we have been much more aware of products "for": For diabetics, Celiac disease, and many other problems whose names I don't know. And I cannot help but think of the extremely slight enjoyability (I'm being nice) many of the surrogates Industry develops to give those forced to do without the illusion of milk, sugar, chocolate, bread, and so on.

The same thing happened to Nicola Bertinelli, the heir to a family of dairymen that began herding in 1895, and make Parmigiano Reggiano in Medesano (province of Parma): Irony of ironies, destiny saddled him with a mixture of lactose, sugar and gluten intolerance.

Since Bertinelli is both dynamic and creative (within the cheeseworks he has opened a restaurant-dancehall, the "Barlumeria," with the cheesemaking equipment and aging cheeses all around, where until the wee hours he serves, in addition to nibbles and spritzes, snaks and local foods, and even white white fresh milk), one would expect him to have done something, and he did: Invent a cheese without lactose, sugar, or gluten.

A good idea, of course. Perhaps even commercially viable. But, so far, not revolutionary.

Thus when, during the ASET trip to Cibus last week, they gave me a cube of this cheese "for the allergic," called "Senza" (Without), I approached it with curiosity and interest, but without expecting much, as I thought it would be the usual product emptied of all "evil" and therefore, of all taste as well. And I ignored the cheesemaker, who was saying, "Granted, it's not as good as a 36-month old Parmigiano, but..."

A serious mistake, on my part. Because when I got home and opened the sample package, I was greatly surprised. "Senza" really is a cheese. It tastes like one, and is good, really good. So good that if you didn't know you wouldn't realize it was dietetic.

To begin with, a nice milky aroma, deep and full, penetrating and intense, and dry, almost that of fresh Parmigiano, whose texture it also echoes. Very compact, and elastic; it looks quite homogenous but upon chewing it displays a pleasant micrograinyness that makes it much more similar to its noble Cousin than one might have at first thought.

The most surprising thing is the taste, however. Quite savory, with sweetish accents that are quite balanced and not at all cloying, long and full, but not aggressive. At first blush it brings moderately aged hand-crafted Swiss to mind, but then the flavors of Parmigiano emerge, young Parmigiano, but this cheese's flavors last longer, and are very pleasant, making this cheese perfect not just for those who "must" eat it because they have no alternatives, but for cheese lovers in general. The body of the cheese, which is an unusual mix of cohesion and (moderate) crumbliness makes it pleasant to nibble by the chunk: For the first time ever I found myself arguing with a food-intolerant person for the last bit of his product.

Impressive, if you ask me.

"Senza" is sold in vacuum packed 200, 300 and 500 g (lightly less than a half pound to slightly more than a pound) packages; in addition to being sold at the cheeseworks, it can be found in many Italian delis, and will soon be available in supermarkets as well. "Senza" is also in the pipeline to be certified as dietetic, which means it will soon be sold in pharmacies too.

The price? Suggested retail price is 14 Euros/k, while at the cheeseworks it sells for a little less.

Want to know more about the cheeseworks, the Barlumeria and the other things they do: http://www.bertinelli.it.

Last but not least: "Ours," says Luca, "is a vertically integrated farm, in that all the products from the fields, which are managed organically, go to feed the animals that produce the milk we use to make our cheeses."

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Don't Let Consumers Know...

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand, to say:

...How good the Pecorino at the discount superstore is, with or without pears. An indecent, but sincere confession from someone in the food field who found a first-rate cheese in a superstore, not a food boutique.

I'll admit it, I've been wanting to write this article for almost a year, but for quallid political correctness I waited. How could I have confessed that the best cheese I've had in quite a while was an everyday pecorino toscano, of the "aged" category, which sold for 15 Euros/k in a discount superstore?

I'll even confess more: I buy it often, and it has never failed me. Quite the contrary, friends and acquaintances have invariably liked it, drawn in by the cherry-effect, with every slice you nibble you feel you must have just one more.

Nothing superfluous; the cheesemaker's site not only doesn't have a picture of this cheese, but doesn't even mention it, which means it's produced especially for supermarkets, in simply labeled half-kilo (about a pound) wedges.

Let's therefore ignore the outside, the dark skin and the simple plastic wrap of this Pecorino Toscano DOP made by the Caseificio Dell'Amiata SpA http://www.alival.it/amiata.htm in Castel Del Piano (Province of Grosseto), which is owned by the Alival Group in Pistoia: It's great, and there's no need to say more.

The rind is very thin. The aging is just about perfect, a balance between residual freshness and dryness that is not yet enough to make the cheese crumbly, with a nice pale yellow body with excellent texture that's firm to the knife, but deliciously tender when bitten. On the tongue it's full bodied and ample, without the slightest trace of gumminess, nor is it grainy, with aromas that are rich and intense but also show sobriety, and a long savory aftertaste. It's inviting but not ingratiating, nor obvious, and will find favor with those who want something to nibble upon, and also those who seek cheeses to think about.

A cheese, let me make clear, that I know nothing about, except for what I have written and what I found on the cheesemaker's site http://www.alival.it/amiata.htm. No further research, not phone calls. I just trusted my palate. And I tried to remember when I had tasted something similar.

I have, of course. But limited production cheeses, given sparingly and served like fine wines, in tiny slices garnished exquisitely, and almost impossible to find without great effort. Sometimes expensive, and sometimes less so.

Here instead one can chow down, the package and the price permit it.

And for once let's set snobbery aside and cut to the quick, at a blind tasting this cheese would make a splash, upstaging many award-winning pecorini. Gotta admit it, one can find surprising things in supermarkets too. But it's best not to bandy it about overmuch.

Edited to Add: Stefano says he bought this wonderful cheese at Penny Market.

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: For Politically Incorrect Palates

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand:


The least offensive, given current sensibilities, are dishes made from songbirds, eel or hare. The most objectionable, in addition to cat, which always appears in these lists, are bear, hedgehog, turtle, sparrow, swan, porcupine, squirrel, badger, and dormouse.

The "forbidden recipes" are all lined up, discussed, and published by the Florentine publisher Sarnus, directed by Mugello native Tebaldo Lorini. He's actually quite refined, an expert in folklore, cooking and art. Who had the courage, in these hypersensitive days, to dust off the Italian traditions regarding dishes that were heretofore simply classics of Cucina povera, the cooking of necessity, and its variant, hunting cooking.

He presents it all unapologetically, pointing out matter-of-factly that despite the beliefs of the general population, there's little real difference between a stew made from veal and one made from badger. And also that in the past there was much less attention given to distinguishing between comestible and uncommestible animals.

In his book (75 pages, 10 Euros) Mr. Lorini indeed shows how, exception taken for the most exotic meats where one happens to be (in some parts of Africa butchering gorillas and putting them on display is normal, as is the case for snakes in China, dogs in Korea, lama in the Andes, and kangaroo in Australia), and prohibitions based more on laws than morals, even in Europe the boundary between the two categories is quite indistinct, shifting from place to place and generation to generation. Without getting into the sewer rats eaten in Paris during the Prussian siege of 1870, Mr. Lorini notes that in the same city, and during the same year, a top restaurant such as Voisin, in Rue Faubourg Saint Honorè didn't hesitate to offer its patrons, as a Christmas dish, donkey head. "Without overlooking," he says, that times of want have always brought about advancements in cookery: people developed new methods for making appetizing things that weren't in the least."

Having torn down the wall of need, and built that of cultural prejudice, modern society is gradually expunging from its recipe collections those meat dishes made from animals whose consumption upsets common sensibility. Without, however, managing to remove them from memory or from daily conversation or popular sayings: when you say, "don't say cat unless it's in the bag," as Trapttoni (the former coach of gli Azzurri, the Italian national soccer team) once did on TV, you don't realize -- Mr. Lorini warns -- that you are referring to a technique used to butcher cats, which was to put them in a bag and pound them against a wall.

It's not by covering one's eyes or sticking one's fingers in one's ears that one can change the taste of a dish.

Examples? Here are a few, from the index of the book: stewed hedgehog, pot roasted foxes, turtle ragout, grilled bear steak, pan-cooked sparrows, swan à l'orange, crow ragout, cat cooked in milk, porcupine stew, honeyed dormice, stewed squirrel, and badger stew.

Enjoy your meal (or burn with rage).

For those who want to know more, or even (gasp) buy this book,

Tebaldo Lorini, Le Ricette Proibite



Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Gaudenzi

This time Stefano, who has emerged from the snowy wastes, takes the stand.

Lets begin by discarding the 2 Euro/liter dreck that we can find on the shelves in supermarkets, and say that if one works in the field (and Stefano does), finding excellent extravirgin oils is not difficult.

Quite the contrary, Italy is full of them. Also, despite what mass communication would have us believe, quality is completely independent of geography, and this means it's simply untrue that the oils of some regions are great while those of others are bad. Quality is quality everywhere, and in the case of oil it derives from a frightening number of variables, none of which are secondary: climate, terrain, the surroundings, exposure, cultivation techniques, treatments, pruning, cultivars used, harvesting timing and technique, pressing timing and technique, and storage of the pressed oil.

What is more difficult to find is an extravirgin oil that is of excellent quality, made in volumes that aren't Lilliputian, and reasonably priced, the latter being the primary force behind brand loyalty.

Day before yesterday I had the good fortune to stumble across oil of just this kind in a trip to Florence, to a presentation of the oils made by the Gaudenzi family in Trevi.

It's a family-run operation, which has, in its 60 years of experience, won many awards, and brought 4 oils pressed in the fall of 2011: Gaudenzi (the basic oil; 80% Moraiolo with Frantoio and Leccino); Quinta Luna (Frantoio, Moraiolo and Leccino, some of which is also bottled as DOP Umbria - Colli Assisi e Spoleto), Chiuse di Sant'Arcangelo (Moraiolo), and 6 Novembre (a "field blend," made by selecting the groves that produced the best olives each year). Let's begin by saying they're all excellent (my notes follow), and my personal preference is for Quinta Luna.

But this isn't the most interesting thing -- strange to say -- about this press. It is instead the philosophy the family has chosen (successfully, it would seem) to follow: a closed cycle that includes field work, pressing, sales, and promotion, which has allowed them to present a series of extremely good oils, all sold directly at prices that are absolutely competitive: The 0.75 liter bottle of the Gaudenzi basic oil sells for 8 Euros and the Quinta Luna for 10, while the half-liter bottles of the Chiuse and 6 Novembre selections sell for 9. Dirt cheap for oils of this quality. Also considering that it's a large operation, by Italian standards: 23 hectares (about 60 acres) of proprietary olive groves all organically farmed, 25,000 olive trees, and more than 300 quintals of oil produced yearly, following a harvest that begins at the end of September and rarely extends past the end of November.

"From an agronomic standpoint," says Francesco, son of Vittorio, who founded the company, "we took three major steps: first, an inventory of all of our trees to classify them by cultivar; second, planning the harvest on the basis of the cultivars, taking into account the different ripening periods of the various cultivars; third, the adoption of a double-cycle pruning system consisting of deep pruning every 5-6 years and yearly trimmings, which has allowed us to almost completely overcome the alternating full and lean harvests olive groves are known for, and thus produce consistent volumes from year to year."

A team of 10 carefully selected people picks with the aid of agevolatori (not the tree shakers one occasionally sees in video clips); they pick by cultivar when the cultivars reach the optimal stage of ripeness, pressing the oils individually, and only later blend the oils from the different cultivars (this blending is called oleaggio, an oil blend, as opposed to the much more common, but less professional olivaggio, or blending of the different cultivars at pressing, which results in an oil from olives that are not all at the optimal stage of ripeness) to make the final oils.

The oils I tasted:

• Gaudenzi Olio Extravergine Di Oliva: Nice, very well balanced nose, with evident but not overly aggressive fruit, fresh and almondy accents, hints of balsam. On the palate its entry is elegant, gradually developing pleasant bitter accents that present with harmony and delicacy, and slightest peppery spice. Very good.
• Quinta Luna: The nose is more powerful that the first, and ample and ethereal, almost penetrating, with greenish herbal accents, nice intensity of fruit, and excellent definition. On the palate balsamic accents are evident, while bitterness emerges strongly, balanced by sweetish notes. It's very long, with clearly evident artichoke stalks that also carry into an elegant finish. Superb.
• Chiuse di Sant'Arcangelo: The nose opens with delicate, but very clear tomato notes, in part green and in part dried; the fruit is full but delicate, giving way to freshly peeled almonds. On the palate it's intense from the outset, full, and fairly bitter, revealing strong flavors that fade into a more delicate peppery finish with delightful artichoke accents. Excellent.
• 6 Novembre: The nose is quite delicate, fresh, and just barely pungent, bringing to mind rosemary and evergreens. On the palate it's quite elegant, full bodied but not aggressive, with bittersweet artichokes predominating, and a very savory finish with bitterness that emerges at the very end. Excellent.

Pairings? I'm against suggesting them. Try, and enjoy coming up with the best. Or let the producer advise you: they do this too.

For More Information, The Gaudenzi Family's Site


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: My name is Wolfe, Nero Wolfe

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand:



I sat, now like then, in the same spot in the same room, next to the same fireplace. And it was Christmas, like now. Just a long, long time ago. It was winter and our big country home was cold; I was wearing a hand-knitted brown sweater, with the collar turned up like a shirt. The cut for a teenager.

I was reading a book, or rather a tome, with a rough yellow cardboard cover, and couldn't put it down. And couldn't keep my mouth from watering due to the combination of the aromas wafting in from the kitchen and the superb dishes described in the book.

And thus, every now and then I'd take a break and look through the pictures on the cards in a pocket in the dust jacket: Recipes, with photos of elaborate (or so they seemed to me) French dishes. They looked mouthwatering. Refined. Elaborate. Glistening. The same dishes that appeared in the book, of course. Cooked by Fritz Brenner and devoured, obviously, by Nero Wolfe.

The book marked the beginning of my unending devotion to the character invented by Rex Stout. A character who had already captured my imagination a few years previously thanks to the extraordinary performances of Tino Buazzelli and Paolo Ferrari, i.e. Archie Goodwin. But the real spark came for me thanks to that tome, which was revolutionary at the time, a "practical gastrothriller" that didn't just make one imagine, but also gave one the illusion of feeling, tasting, and being in "the old brownstone" on 918 35th Street in Manhattan.

At the time I still had in mind the "Haute Cuisine" of the Woolfe episode on TV, with its campy moog sound effects, shiny 70s crystal, the squeaky soles, and the low ceilinged carpeted velvet laden rooms laced with the aromas of the Midnight Sausages, prepared following a secret recipe.

A quick search online and here we have it, "Alta Cucina del Delitto," published by Mondadori in 1969 -- 891 pages. I said it was a tome, and within its covers were Fer-De-Lance, The Red Box, Too Many Cooks (we're speaking of...), Over My Dead Body, and Where There's a Will. Now it's available in almost-new condition -- Zounds! -- in the used sections of web bookshops. But, warns my honest bookseller, "without the recipe cards in the jacket pocket." Which my copy has, because I of course still have it. Take that!

Like a river in flood this all came back to me when the mailman brought me the new Beat Edizioni paperback edition of Fer-De-Lance, the first story in the Mondadorian volume, and the first tale (1934) in Nero Wolfe's long saga, now reissued in an inexpensive paperback edition (9 euros) by the Venetian publisher.

An exciting tale of suspense, like all of Stout's stories. Which immediately reveals the hedonistic facets and twists destined to accompany the protagonist throughout his more-than-half-century career: cold, foaming beer to stimulate reflection, and food as an essential catalyst for every activity, which brings together civility and pleasure, and thought and knowledge of life. His investigations? Lucrative, necessary parentheses between one course and the next.

Fer-De-Lance: a wrapped up serpent and a diabolical assassin, the classic tale to devour in an afternoon. And I expect it won't be the last, if Beat Edizioni continues, as it has promised, to publish Stout's opus. With a mouthwatering rundown of recipes, luncheons, and dinners. And since both the IGP and our readers like, in addition to literature, cooking, here's a Christmas present to wind up, the famed Midnight Sausages:

Midnight Sausages

• 2 onions
• 1 clove garlic
• 2 tablespoons goose fat
• 3 tablespoons brandy
• 3 tablespoons butter
• 3 tablespoons beef broth
• 3 tablespoons red wine
• Thyme, rosemary, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves to taste
• Breadcrumbs as needed
• 1/4 pound boiled pancetta, chopped
• 1/4 pound roast pork loin, chopped
• 1/2 pound roast goose, chopped
• 1/2 pound roast pheasant, chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 tablespoon peeled pistachio nuts
• Sausage casings, soaked

Chop the onion and the garlic and sauté them in the goose fat until translucently gold. Sprinkle the brandy over them, and then the broth and the red wine. Add a pinch each powdered thyme and rosemary, and hints of nutmeg and cloves. Simmer over a gentle flame for 10 minutes, and add enough breadcrumbs to make a paste.

Cook another 5 minutes, stirring. Add the chopped meats, beginning with the bacon, season with salt and a generous dusting of pepper, add the pistachios, and simmer until the mixture has the consistency of fresh sausage meat.

Let cool completely.

Fill the sausage casings with the mixture, giving the casing a twist every now and again to form links, and tying them with twine.

Run them under the broiler, after puncturing the skins here and there.



Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Siena's Ricciarello is IGP: But What Does it Taste Like?

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand:



For the Sienese, and, we may as well admit it, especially for the Sienese pastry industry, 2011 will be a year to remember. Symbolic, like 1260, the year the city defeated Florence in the battle of Monteaperti.

Also because, though this time the triumph was more bureaucratic and less striking, the adversaries were in part the same. And the battle, conducted with certificates and reports, was every bit as violent. I'm talking about the so-called "Ricciarello War," an engagement that began in 1996 and had been hard-fought in Florence, Rome and Brussles, until, in 2010, the EU accepted Siena's requests and assigned the city's classic almond macaroons the long-sought-after IGP status.

It took until October 28, however, for the completion of the certification protocol, at which point it became possible to sell "Ricciarelli di Siena IGP." A product that now, with the onset of the Christmas season, will make its appearance on Italian tables. According to EEU law, from now on no sweet labeled Ricciarello di Siena can be made beyond the provincial borders, and all must be made following the rigid production code approved by the EEU.

Obviously, similar sweets made elsewhere aren't Ricciarelli, and this is a red light for the Florentines, Pratesi and Grossetani who have long made similar looking almond-scented sweets that in fact don't contain almonds. Identifying them however as the Ricciarelli, that Pellegrino Artusi called "Sienese" in recipe 629 of his famous book.

As always happens when the subject of brands and industry arises, the problem is not one of local pride. And just as obviously, the IGP battle brought together everyone on the Sienese side, from the Chamber of Commerce to the Fondazione Qualità della Provincia.

The implications go considerably beyond local economics, tourism, local identity, and one-upmanship. The Ricciarello di Siena IGP is the first Italian sweet to obtain IGP status, and a production code that requires the use of specific ingredients. And it is the first time that the name Siena has received protection in the form of geographic recognition. At present the label is being used by just four companies, but another 50 or so could adopt it, and as a result the brand's worth is already esptimated to be several million Euros. "This in an historic moment in which," notes Mauro Rosati, Qualivita's Director, "countires with ample cash reserves, such as Quatar, are investing heavily in this sector to buy protected names that they plan to release onto global markets in the future."

To guarantee the production methods, and in particular, the ingredients used, the University of Siena has gotten involved. The heart of the problem is the almonds. The traditional recipe, and therefore the IGP production code, calls for 30-50% sweet almonds, and up to 6% bitter almonds; the latter are expensive, and therefore some substituted for them with ground apricot pits, or even the de-oiled flours that are the waste product of almond oil extraction. Both substitutes give qualitatively inferior results, but it turns out that they can be detected through a DNA analysis of the oils contained in the ricciarelli, an analysis developed by researchers of the Cogep Laboratories, which are part of the University of Siena.

Everything set?

From a legal standpoint yes: Siena's Ricciarelli are certified, guaranteed, stamped, and inspected.

Unfortunately, however, from a qualitative standpoint, in other words, taste (the Ricciarelli we eat will have to be tasty and enjoyable, no?) the ridged production code says nothing at all. It specifies shape, height, weight, appearance, and firmness. That's it. What would happen, one wonders, if one of these precious ricciarelli tasted like fish, or smelled of lavender, or were too bitter?

I hope people will keep this in mind when it comes time to codify the production of another classic Sienese sweet that is being fought over: Panforte. Its battle began before the Ricciarello Skirmish, and the paperwork was sent to Brussels in 2002. The Sienese do know how to wait...


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: If All the World (Isn't) Scenery

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand:

The countryside, in rural areas too, changes so quickly that it becomes difficult to preserve it. Even so, it has been firmly established that "place identity" has a profound impact on people's psyches. Here are a few consideration, made while wandering the wine areas of the Langhe and Monferrato.

Let's call them parallel convergences, or perhaps parallel coincidences.

The crux of the matter is that this week, as I tasted wines with my IGP companions, I traveled the Langhe, at times admiring the spectacular vineyard draped slopes, whose vines looked like so many well-brushed green locks, monuments to monoculture, and the austere fortresses erected on the hilltops by the House of Savoy. The stuff of postcards, and you find yourself wondering how those funnel-shaped slopes manage to stand despite any traces of forest, with streets coming down straight like the spokes of a wheel: beautiful to look at but hydrogeological folly.

And then you descend into the valleys: The plains vanish behind factories and warehouses, highways, and shops of all kinds, with scattered between them scraggly fields, what survives of poor agriculture that is also starting to return to the wild.

A perfect example, you think, of an aesthetic and enogastronomic context whose excellence is not fully reflected by that of the container.

Then you think some more, and remember that in your region, Tuscany, which certainly doesn't lack for similar scenes and excellences, people have had a lot to say about the countryside lately. Perhaps too much. We talk about local emergencies (day before yesterday in a Sienese paper: "Let's Save the Sienese countryside") and more national things (At Fiesole they discussed the countryside during a meeting dedicated to the birth of the Osservatorio sul Paesaggio), sometimes discuss the environment (often mistaken for the countryside), which people think should be the force behind (though nobody says how) "development" (discussed yesterday in Florence during a meeting on European cooperation), and of course say it needs to be protected and abuses halted.

But the most interesting facet is another, which was discussed today at Lubec in Lucca, an international meeting on cultural heritage and the technologies it employs: what sorts of interferences are there, and are there relationships between the countryside people live in and their personalities?

One can't help but wonder in a period of rapid change, both in time and in space, which can lead different contexts to be superimposed. At which point you are sandwiched between them.

What is the real relationship, the experts wonder, between "place relationship" (which might better be called "genus lochi," the identity of the place, and "self identity?"

"Living in the countryside of Chianti, the northwestern suburbs of Paris, or among the huge freeways of LA are not the same thing:" A statement of the obvious from Paolo Fuligni, psychologist, university professor and expert on urban ecologies, and also a moderator at the Lucca Meeting. "We must indeed keep in mind," he added, "that exposure to harmonious, pretty countrysides results in positive activities in important sections of the brain."

It is on the basis of these statements that Mr. Fuligni and his assistants are attempting to make a map showing the characteristics of Italy's cities and countryside. A long, complex task that is beginning in Tuscany and will continue to the other Regions.

The only danger, we'd like to humbly suggest, is that by the time the project is completed the borders between town and country will have been eliminated, and people will thus travel among urban vineyards or cities with vines.
Recalling, perhaps, the highlands of the Langhe and even the ugly sites of the valley floor. with a pang of sorrow

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Bibbiano, Sangiovese at Half Speed

This time Stefano Tesi Takes the Stand:

This article cannot but begin with apologies: Apologies to Leonardo di Vincenzo, the brewmaster of the La Birra del Borgo Brewery, the co-protagonist of this post who should appear at the top. However, since space is at a premium (for me as I can only include one picture in my posts, though not for my IGP Friends, who will I hope be freer with their images), I hope he will forgive me if I place, beside the faces of the Tommaso and Federico Marocchesi Marzi and their winemaker, Stefano Porcinai, the face of Giulio Gambelli, the legendary "Bicchierino" who has followed the estate's wines for decades, giving them character and style.

And I really would like to know what the great Giulio thinks of L'Equilibrista, a beer from Sangiovese must (must from Bibbiano of course) that they began to make in 2009, after Tommaso Marocchesi and Leonardo Di Vincenzo thought it up, almost as a lark, at Vinitaly.

It is true that the Marrocchesi marzi family has been making wine in the hills of Castellina in Chianti for five generations and almost 150 years. A century and a half, given the times, would be equivalent to a continuity of many centuries in times past. It was therefore inevitable that the owners should have come up with something original. Thus, alongside Invigna, the annual wine summerfest the brothers organize in the vineyards, came beer, to the grea t delight of the invited.

An enticing product, I'll admit, in many ways: how it was conceived, the technique, its taste, its color. It's the result of a 50-50 blend of fresh Sangiovese must from Chianti and Duchessa wort; Duchessa being the farro based beer from the brewery in Borgorose, which ferments with wine yeasts, and referments in bottle with Champagne yeasts. After a year in the cellars, the brewmaster disgorges it, and adds liqueur d'expedition made from distilled Duchessa. Thus is born L'Equilibrista, unfiltered and unpasteurized.

A beer that tastes like wine, or a wine that tastes like beer. That goes down like beer, but has the alcohol content (10.5%) and body of a wine. In short, a great drink. You swish it in the glass, looking for the term for the color, and come up short. Red gold tending toward orange, vinous aspect, moderate compact head. No getting around it, it brings must to mind. The nose is striking thanks to its complexity and at the same time its freshness, there's farro, barley, toasted accents, and the unmistakable aroma of wine, and finally a rich of yeasts and bread crusts, just like Champagne. And that odd vinousness comes forth on the palate too, with underlying acidity that binds a long complex structure supported by an alcoholic spine that makes it noteworthy, suitable for substantial dishes. Even though you can simply sip it on its own, enjoying the sun setting over the hills of Chianti, and it will be perfect.

It's odd that this birragne (beer-Champagne, my term) comes in part from, and he'll be the first to admit it, a modest beer drinker such as Tommaso Marrocchesi, and a winery that has nothing of the "brewery" about it, with solid straight forward wines that are invariably elegant, untouched by the vagaries of fashion, and traditional without being boring. The total opposite of the wildness writers associate with beer. Perhaps the name, L'Equilibrista, wasn't by chance.



Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti. We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: The Man Who Planted Dry Stone Walls

This time Stefano Tesi takes the Stand:

"The Man Who Planted Trees," by Jean Giono, is the story of a shepherd who, by planting acorns every day, succeeded over the course of a lifetime in bringing life back to an entire mountain that had been stripped bare by human misuse.

One could say the same of Francesco Carfagna, "a professor of mathematics but primarily a rural foreman," as he likes to define himself, and also hostler and winemaker. A multifaceted man.

Because Francesco, in a sort of inevitable backwards path, found himself midway along the road of life, following a dream that quickly became a project. Nay, a magnificent obsession: to restore the vineyards of the island of Giglio to their ancient splendor. Acres and acres of glorious shoots clinging like lichens to the slopes of the island, twisting among the rocks and devoured by the scrub forests that plunge to the sea.

A goal at the limits of utopia, but this didn't keep Francesco, who has also written poetry and performed with Alan Ginsburg, to recover, in the space of 10 years, 4 hectares of ancient terraces and to rebuild, by hand, stone by stone, 10 km of dry walls. All for the satisfaction of producing a few hundred bottles of the traditional Giglio Isle's traditional wine, Ansonaco. The list of hand tools he used is equally long: hoes of all kinds, picks, pick axes, shovels, hoppers, scythes, poles, trowels, hammers, and more.

His initial goal was to make 3000 bottles; he has now doubled it.

"20 years ago nobody still made our wine, and there were just a few bottles left. Now it's fashionable again, but I'm the only one who really makes it, because the others take the grapes to the mainland and ferment them there," he says, in the cool shade of the tiny shed (hearth, kitchen, cot, and a blinding view of the Mediterranean) he has in the middle of the vineyards.

He opened the way, and a few have followed. With good results, but Francesco isn't jealous. Quite the contrary. On being the trailblazer, however, he brooks no dissent. "Even though my Ansonaco is traditional and pure, it's modern in style, and bears no relation to the cloudy almost orange wines we used to drink in our homes."

He remembers them well: Like many good Romans, he would come to the Isle of Giglio on vacation in the 50s. At age 21 he moved to Florence to study and of love, even though what he really liked was masonry: he kept himself in school by waterproofing factory roofs. After his degree, seven years teaching in high schools. Too much; his career ended in 1985 when he became a "rural foreman" in Florentine farms.

His work then led him to Giglio Island; he moved in 1986 and the following year opened a restaurant at Giglio Castello, called L'Arcobalena. Because he's also very handy with a spoon. A huge success. Last year they cancelled his lease, and he reopened a few hundred yards down the road.

And in the meantime, during the long winter spent composing poetry, thinking, and walking about the island, contemplating the sea and the hardy vines that had survived being abandoned, inspiration flashed: The vineyards. Destiny? Francesco says, "Nothing can change of what is destined, but destiny is destined to change."

The Estate
Altura: 4 hectares trained in the low bush and guyot styles, entirely terraced just before the Punta Capel Rosso lighthouse on the south-west side of the island, overlooking the sea, with sandy acidic terrains. About 8,500 vines per hectare, with roots deep among the rocks, and yields of 40 quintals per hectare. Treatments? "None. "Just cow manure when I can, my wine marks, and green fertilization. Hand-hoeing of the rows, ground cover consisting of clover, wild flowers, wild herbs, and some vegetables, with everything periodically scythed." Sulfur occasionally, between April and June.

The Wines
Two: Ansonaco "Carfagna," of course, a Maremma Toscana IGT that's a warm intense reddish hue, with the natural aromas of old, that bring to mind sun and hot stones, ripe fruit, sea salt., On the palate it's full, rich, and dense, and quite up front and enjoyable, clean but with some of the farmer's mark. It's best drunk at cellar temperature. Six thousand bottles in all. Then there's the red, "Saverio," once again Maremma IGT. Just 1500 bottles, and a blend that tells a story: "Mixed grapes from the Island of Giglio." It's more than 14% alcohol and every bit stands out. First in the elegant ruby hue, and then in aromas that after surprising with an unexpected fashionable elegance, become rustic, with persistent extremely ripe fruit and Island scrub forest, but never overcome the senses. On the palate it's warm, pleasant, structured, with pronounced alcohol that does not disturb thanks to a certain fluidity and the absence of distracting concentration.

The cost?
Significant, as is the experience one has in drinking them, and the effort making them requires: 30 Euros for the Ansonaco, and 35 for the red. Wine lovers can buy direct (0564 806 041 or altura - @ - arcobalena.net) or seek it out in wine shops.

The Concert
Thanks to a friendship with an extraordinary group of musicians (Daniela Petracchi, violoncello, Myriam Dal Don and Mauro Tortorelli, violins, Demetrio Comuzzi and Paola Emanuele, violas, Riccardo Agosti and Daniela Petracchi, violincellos, Maria Grazia Bellocchio, piano, harpsichord, spinet), on Friday July 29 Altura will hold a concert by a string ensemble in the vineyards, "with the music ending when the sun skinks below the horizon". Simple, informal, extraordinary from an artistic standpoint, and free: Wind, sun, a cushion, and comfortable shoes.

Azienda Agricola Altura
Tel&fax 0564 806041,
email altura - @ - arcobalena.net,
Mulinaccio
58012 Isola del Giglio (GR)

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti. We Are: Carlo Macchi Kyle Phillips Luciano Pignataro Roberto Giuliani Stefano Tesi